“Bombs don’t have instructions on the side.”
“Or at least not that you can see without your cheaters, right?”
He expelled a burst of laughter.
His license sure looked real enough.
Still.
“Why were you in here emptying my trash?”
His gaze didn’t waver from hers. “I wanted to know if you were who you claimed you were, or if it was a ruse to ferret me into the open.”
“Why would someone need to do that unless you’re hiding from law enforcement? The fact that you disappeared when you knew the police were going to get involved the other day leads me to believe you’re a fugitive.”
“Do you run criminal background checks on every beneficiary?”
“Only the ones who go through my trash.”
He opened his hands in a helpless shrug. “I don’t really want Delores’s money. I appreciate that she wanted to leave it to me, but I wasn’t family. Give it to her sister.”
Bonnie sighed. Perhaps he was acting reluctant so that it would lower her suspicions of him and she’d insist he take the money.
She pulled out the acquisition form, turned it over, and slid it to him. “Fill out this form.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“What?”
“I’m going to need my glasses back.”
She slipped them off her nose and placed them on the paper. Pulling a pen from her holder, she placed it next to both items. Sharing eyeglasses seemed intimate. Too intimate.
He put them on and read the form. He glanced at her over the frames as she had done to him. The glasses made him seem more human and less the crook she suspected him to be.
His pen rested on the first blank.
Was he having trouble remembering the lies he’d written on his tax form or the lies he’d told her? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head and wrote.
He was left handed. His handwriting was neat. In a few minutes, he gave it to her. “Thank you.” Without reading it, she placed it in the folder and closed it. “If there are no problems with the information you’ve provided, the check will be mailed to the address you’ve provided.”
He took off the glasses and pocketed them. “Very well.” He stood and held out his hand. “Thank you, Ms. Moore.”
She stood as well and took the hand he offered. His grasp was warm and firm. She ignored the tingles from the contact and pulled her hand away quickly.
“I’d still like to take you to dinner.”
“No thank you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Is that the only reason?”
Bonnie thought of Kayla, Curtis, and Andy. “There are a few others, but that’s reason enough.”
“Your children.”
Bonnie pinched her lips together in irritation. She didn’t like how easily he’d read her thoughts. Or that he’d listened in on a private conversation with her friends. “So you were eavesdropping on our conversation.”
“It wasn’t difficult. Your friends are loud.”
“You could have moved.”
“You intrigue me.” His voice dropped when he said it, as if he were disclosing a secret he wasn’t quite comfortable with.
A little shudder skittered along her spine. “What?”
“Your friends said you needed to cut loose and go out dancing.”
“With a younger man. That wouldn’t be you.” Actually, she was older, but only by a few months, and she wasn’t going to share that with him. “And this conversation is extremely inappropriate. You are a beneficiaries case.”
His eyes sparkled, but it wasn’t from humor this time. “Delores Parks, who was the closest thing I had to a mother, died last year. This may be just a case to you, but she was a dear woman with a very big heart who loved a bitter kid more than he deserved.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Goodbye, Ms. Moore. If you change your mind about dinner, call me. My number is on the form.” He nodded to her then turned and walked out of her office without looking back.
Wait!
Bonnie wanted to call out to him, but she didn’t. Shame drowned out the suspicion she’d harbored against the man since she’d met him.
Chapter Six
Get out.
Just get out, and don’t think about it.
Don’t think about her.
Brandt stalked to the elevator and pushed the button. It opened immediately, and he stepped in. His mind went white, a trick he’d trained himself to do when things got too intense. It’s what had helped him to focus on his objective, get in and out without detection, to survive.
An image of Bonnie Moore shattered the white, her blue eyes glaring at him over his own readers, their frames resting low on her cute nose. All business and efficiency—he was used to the women in operations, but they were hard, all angular and tight, even their curves, contained to draw the eye away instead of entice. Then there were the other women Brandt ran into—sensual, yes, but they used their sexuality like a weapon. They were harder still, like marble, and they were ruthless. Brandt learned long ago to stay away from them unless they could help him with his objective. He would put up the white wall, accomplish his goal, and leave making sure he watched his back in case somebody wanted to stick a knife in it.
And then there was Bonnie. Softness and domesticity clung to her like the aroma of chocolate chip cookies in Aunt Louise’s kitchen. But Bonnie wasn’t weak or shallow, like he’d seen elsewhere. She was competent. He liked that, really liked it.
“Hi.”
A woman who just entered the elevator smiled at him. He recognized her from the cafeteria. One of Bonnie’s friends.
I’m losing my edge.
This woman shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on him, much less even notice him.
Bonnie had him distracted.
“I’m Rita. I’m a friend of Bonnie’s.”
Brandt nodded to her.
“Bonnie Moore, the bloodhound, I mean, the beneficiaries manager.”
“Yes, I know who she is.” The nickname intrigued him. But she’d located him, hadn’t she? Brandt reached out to shake Rita’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
A cloud passed over her expression. “You’re not married, right?”
A shocked laugh burst from him. “No. Are you?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes. Happily. I’m asking for Bonnie.”
“Bonnie wants to know if I’m married?”
Rita snickered. “What am I thinking? Of course, she has already found that out. Bloodhound, you know. She just didn’t say specifically, but I guess since she’s interested….”
“She’s interested?”
“Well, she denied it, but I believe in Shakespeare’s adage, ‘The lady doth protest too much.’ Know what I mean?”
Brandt grinned. Oh, he loved this. Ms. Moore was interested, yet she was in denial. But she hadn’t fooled her friends. “What was the protest?”
“It wasn’t so much what she said, but how she said it. A little flustered. That’s not Bonnie.”
He hadn’t seen her flustered. He’d seen cool as a cucumber. He’d seen distrust and disdain, but not fluster, although he’d sure like to.
“So, if you’re free Thursday night and you’d like to…see Bonnie, we’ll be at the Barefoot Café around six. We go there once a month from six to eight.”
****
It was nearly eight, and Kayla wasn’t home yet though she’d texted at five and said they were practicing late again. What was going on with band? Why were they going late every night? She picked up her phone and called Hannah Bradley‘s mother. Maybe she knew why the band needed extra practice. Fran picked up on the second ring.
“Hi, Fran, it’s Bonnie.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Do you know why the band practices are running long this week?”
“I didn’t know they were running late. Just a minute. Hannah? Are you all
having late practices?”
Hannah? Why would Hannah already be home if Kayla was riding home with her?
“She said they went a few minutes late Tuesday, but that was it.”
It was on the tip of Bonnie’s tongue to have Fran ask her daughter if Kayla was riding home with her, but Bonnie already knew the answer.
Rex.
Damn you.
The front door opened and closed.
“Thanks a lot,” Bonnie said into the receiver.
“Is anything wrong?”
“No, not at all. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Sure.”
Bonnie hung up the phone just as Kayla walked into the room, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and began to walk out again.
“Hey, kiddo. You must be hungry.”
“Not really.”
“I didn’t hear Hannah’s car in the driveway.”
Kayla shrugged. “I had her drop me off at the street. That way she doesn’t have to pull in, then pull back out.”
“She’s not giving you a hard time about riding home with her, is she? I didn’t think she minded.”
“Get off my back, Mom. Geez. It’s fine,” the young woman snapped before stalking through the kitchen door into the den.
Bonnie knew it definitely was not fine. She followed her daughter. “Tell her I’ll pick you up from band practice tomorrow at five. It’s my girl’s night out, and I don’t want to be late.”
Kayla stopped and turned toward her mother, shooting her a murderous look. “I can’t just tell Mr. Headly I have to leave early. We have to stay until seven this week.”
Or eight, but who’s keeping track? Obviously, the stupid idiotic mother who trusted her daughter to be truthful. “Well, I guess I’ll have to call him and talk about it. I find it unreasonable that he’s keeping all of you so late, here with midterms coming up.”
“No. Don’t call him.” Kayla raised her hand in surrender then higher in fury. “God, I hate it when you blow everything out of proportion and start calling the school.”
“Two hours of practice a day in addition to the thirty minutes he has you during school hours should be enough.” Bonnie knew she was losing her temper. She worked to rein it in.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll just ride home with Cindy.”
“No. If they go late tomorrow, I don’t want to have to go back over there to pick you up. You’re on my way home from work. I’ll just leave a little early to get you.”
“I’ll get a ride with someone else.”
“Like Rex? I don’t think so.”
Something flashed in her eyes. It almost looked like fear. Of being caught? Then the anger was back. “Why do you hate him so much?”
“Because he’s…” corrupting you. Bonnie didn’t say it, knowing how Kayla would react. “He’s bad news, Kayla.”
Kayla turned and stalked up the stairs. Bonnie resisted the urge to command her to stop and turn around when she was talking to her.
She followed her daughter. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? You can do so much better than—”
Kayla turned on the landing and glared down at her mother. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have anyone. You and Dad screwed things up, and now no one wants you because you’re old. Well, I don’t want to be like you. Rex and I are in love—”
Bonnie continued upward toward her daughter. Kayla stood there glaring at her. She was as tall as Bonnie now. Bonnie reached out to touch her arm, and Kayla flinched away. Not in anger, though, in pain.
“What’s wrong with your arm?”
Kayla rolled her shoulder a little stiffly. The movement seemed to illicit more anger in her. “Nothing. Would you just get out of my life!”
“Let me see.”
Kayla shook her head and strode to her bedroom. She put her hand on the doorknob. “No. Don’t touch me.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“You’re what’s wrong with me,” she yelled. She opened the door, getting ready for her big exit line. “You’re pathetic, and I hate you.”
Slam!
And there it was.
Bonnie blew out a breath. A small sound drew her attention down the hall where two sets of eyes peered at her around the door facing of the boys’ rooms. Big scared eyes.
Bonnie walked toward them and breathed in and out a few times like she had learned in her mindfulness exercises. She walked in their room and lay down on the floor. They looked back at her with troubled expressions on their faces. “Well, boys, all that yelling wears me out.”
Andy’s nose wrinkled up as if he smelled something bad. “Does Kayla really hate you?”
Curtis walked over and folded his legs under him as he sat next to Bonnie. Bending his head down, he rested his forehead against her hip, and Bonnie caressed his hair. As much as she didn’t like their father, she couldn’t help but be grateful to the man for his part in creating these children.
“She probably feels like she does right now.”
“If she hates you, then I hate her.”
Bonnie cupped Curtis’ head and rolled to her side. She bent over and kissed the crown of his head. “She needs us to love her now more than ever.”
“But she said she hated you and stay out of her life,” Curtis reminded her.
“You think she really means it, Mama?” Andy asked.
“No. I don’t think she really means it.”
“We’re supposed to go to Dad’s tomorrow. What if she doesn’t come back with us Sunday?”
Bonnie suppressed the harrumph that rose in her throat. As if Guy would agree to that.
“I think she’ll come back. After all, all her stuff’s here.”
“But she hates you.”
“Tell you what. If she goes to live with your dad, Andy, you can move in her room, then you guys wouldn’t have to share a room anymore.”
A sparkle shone in Andy’s eyes. He’d expressed interest in wanting his own room for a couple of years now. A little grin surfaced on his lips. “Can we go get ice cream?”
Bonnie smiled and sat up. They had a tradition of going out for ice cream to celebrate something. Like getting one’s own room. “Don’t start moving your stuff yet. She’s not moving in with your dad no matter how much she hates me.”
****
She hates me.
Nearly sixteen years ago Bonnie lay in a hospital bed in the maternity ward holding this perfect baby with her ten fingers and toes, her pink bow mouth, and her inquisitive gaze that made her look more like a wise sage than a day-old baby. Bonnie had gazed in that face for hours memorizing every feature, the hope of a lifetime of dreams all in that tiny, beautiful face.
I did this. Me. Well, me and Guy.
But it was my body, which had nurtured this perfect child for nine months, which had provided a place for her to develop and grow until she could survive the outside world, breathe the air, eat and drink, sleep, and grow into an adult.
Me.
Bonnie remembered those moments of wonder. Sitting by the crib nights gazing at her sleeping daughter, Bonnie never imagine those tender maternal moments would graduate to this moment—nursing a margarita at the Barefoot Café, thinking back to the night before when that perfect baby, fifteen years later, flung angry words at her.
I don’t want to be like you. You’re pathetic, and I hate you.
“Bonnie? Where are you, hon?”
Bonnie blinked, Rita’s words bringing her back to the present. The boisterous atmosphere of the bar and grill finally pricked her ruminations. Bonnie focused on her friends sitting around the table. Rita, Alicia, and Sheila all watched her, their own favorite drinks sitting on the table in front of them.
“I told you I wouldn’t be good company tonight,” Bonnie said.
She had told them. Guy picked up the kids from school, including the hater. And even though Bonnie hadn’t let Kayla see it, her words hurt. They’d hurt very much. And all Bonnie wanted to do was to stay home and be alon
e with her misery. But when she hadn’t shown up for the six o’clock meeting time at the café, Alicia had called her—and called her on not showing up.
“Get your ass down here. If the rest of us can leave our miserable lives to come and drink and make merry, you surely can, too.”
“Tell her to put on something pretty before she comes.” Bonnie heard Sheila say in the background.
“Yeah,” Alicia said. “And put on that sleeveless number you have. The red one.”
Bonnie had refused, and twenty minutes later, Rita had shown up, dismissed her excuses, pulled out the red dress, and driven her over here.
She stirred the margarita with the little straw that had come with it and took a sip, then another. At least, she didn’t have to worry about driving home. Her friends’ insistence she live out the aphorism misery loves company meant she had a designated driver tonight. It would serve them right for her to get drunk out of her skull and make them put up with her. But of course, she wouldn’t. Bonnie didn’t do things like that.
She studied the glass in front of her and the ice cubes in it. Their food hadn’t arrived yet, and she’d already finished her cocktail. And since Bonnie didn’t get drunk out of her skull, didn’t make her friends put up with her, and wouldn’t be a burden to anyone, she’d order ice tea when the waiter came back. She sighed and pushed back her chair a bit. Standing up, her head swam a little.
“Where you going?” Sheila asked.
“Bathroom.”
“Want me to go with you?” Rita asked.
“Nope. I’m a big girl.” Bonnie thought she might have swayed a little bit and hoped no one noticed. She stepped around the chair and concentrated on walking a straight line. She had to walk through the bar to get to the restrooms, and three large televisions displayed three different channels—news, a crime drama, and a football game. Who played on a Thursday night, she wondered as she gave the screens a curious glance. Once she’d visited the bathroom, she threaded her way through the bar again. A commercial played on one of the screens, its picture reflected in the angled mirror over the bar. A man sat by himself on one side of the bar, his face shown clearly in the reflected glass, and his eyes met hers. Bonnie gasped.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 96
